The girl and her doll

The other day I was out running some errand, a bit annoyed that I had to go out in middle of the day. On the way back in the bus, I was idly looking out the window watching people. A couple of stops later, a young mother with her two little kids boarded the bus and took their seats opposite mine. The boy sat with mama. The girl sat with her dolly!

This little girl was dressed in pink (of course!). She was grabbing her big cloth doll, also dressed in pink and purple. After she settled herself on the seat, she gently made her doll sit next to her. Holding on her doll, she started talking to her. A gentle loving voice, sometimes animatedly excited, created a myriad of tales with her doll. The everyday busy city outside the bus took shape of a vibrant story. And she made me peep back to my childhood.

Like most other girls, I loved to play with dolls. And created my own world with them. When I was little, it was mostly having my favorite doll and dragging her all around with me. I would talk to her the whole day long telling all my stories as I looked at the world with amazed eyes. She had to be there while I had my lunch, played ‘kitchen’, roamed around in my grandparents’ garden, lied down by my grandma for an afternoon nap listening to her stories, and also at night she was by my pillow sleeping and dreaming with me. She was my friend and companion, someone to share my secrets and plans.

And still creating stories...

One of my very first dolls I remember was one made of soft plastic. She wore an orangish-red dress with black hair. I used to ‘cook’ in my tiny wok, and she used to ‘eat’. I would sit with my doll and some weeds and leaves, talking to her and playing. Once I pretended she was ill (maybe after I had to pay a visit to the doctor), and I took her to the hospital, by the banana plant in the garden! She is with me in many of my childhood pictures. She was there close by as I sat surrounded with other toys. Myself adorned in ma’s saree and holding her close to my smiling face. I was reading my first book and she was there reading with me. She shared with me little moments of my first years.

I never used to name my dolls. They were just ‘my doll’. I had this big doll with blue eyes that closed while ‘sleeping’ in my lap. She had a smart white blouse and a pinkish colored skirt, her hair neatly tied in a ponytail. She even had little black shoes on with white socks. I adored this doll, but never really played around with her. My favorites were some smaller versions of her, in colorful dresses. Every time I went out with my parents, I used to ask for a new doll. I would choose as mine the one with cutest smile and prettiest dress. Then on, she would be the apple of my eyes until the day I would notice her missing shoes and tangled vanishing hair. And it was time again for another new doll.

Once I made myself a clay doll. I shaped it and dried it for a couple of days on the windowsill. When ready, she was dressed in the dress from an old doll. Unfortunately, she lasted for the shortest time, just a day. Like with my other dolls, I kept her by my pillow at night. In the morning, I woke up with broken pieces of dried clay wrapped in a dress. My sleepy hugs had sadly crumbled her into pieces. There ended my creativity with clay!

All my dolls were with a single ponytail. Therefore, it had immediately captured all attention of little me when I saw this doll with two braids while sightseeing in Haridwar. I wanted a doll with two braids, and my parents would happily buy me one such doll if only we could find it. The last evening of our stay included a frenzy search asking at every store, ‘Do choti wala guriya hai kya (Do you have a doll with two braids)?’ My excited face was almost turning sad, when we finally found it. She was wearing a white frock with colorful polka dots. Her shoes were black and eyes blue. Two neatly done braids went down past her shoulders. Instantly I was in love with my new doll with two braids!!

The idle playing with dolls and chattering to her took a more creative turn when I was around 10. She was my last doll. She came in a greenish frock, I remember. I had learnt to stitch, do embroidery and knit a bit by then. Craft and making new things have always been my favorite activity. The girlish whim of playing with dolls and the creativity came together. My doll got a makeover!! She got a new dress, painstakingly hand-stitched out of my old clothes and other scrapes. Matching ribbon in the hair completed her attire. I proudly looked at her, awed by my own creativity.

Soon, the long summer afternoons after school got busy with threads, needles, scrape clothes and craft-box. A small shelf was turned into my dollhouse. I had bought from a fair little wardrobe and dressing mirror for the doll. A bit of imagination furnished the house with a bed and side table. The bed linen was stitched; blanket, pillows, little rug were made. There was even a nice printed curtain hanging. Soon her wardrobe was full of new clothes – homely clothes, dresses for going out, and party dresses for an occasion. They were in all colors and fashion. Dida helped me knit her a small sweater! I, however, was particularly proud of her school dress. A pale yellow shirt, a yellow-black checked skirt and tie. The shirt even had a real monogram! She looked perfect, like going to a real school. Her bag was full of miniature books I had made and my used pencil that had reached its end. A rainy afternoon inspired me to make her a raincoat using some thicker white plastic! Now, she could not go out in rain, could she?

I had my doll and the creative afternoons surrounding her for a year or so. Then I grew ‘older’. Slowly the doll and everything else found place in the craft-box. And the dollhouse got filled with my clips and earrings and bangles. That winter I made a Christmas tree. Next I needed was a Santa Claus. The forgotten doll was perfect for it. I stitched a cherry red robe with fluffy cotton adorning its edges. The doll got a long flowing beard and a huge red hat. My doll was perfect in her new role.

Years passed. The dolls remained in the shelves, not anymore a little girl’s confidantes and playmates. Yet, they are never forgotten. Stories and memories linger around them. They bring back to me childhood moments, those long afternoons and the tales we created together. The dolls are fondly remembered when I see some little girl with her doll. They are part of some most cherished memories of my girlhood.

And even though I do not play with dolls anymore, I still love to own them. The old classic ones with innocent eyes, naughty smile, chubby cheeks and cute frocks. Like the cloth doll Blaž gave me last year. Dolls, even now, continue to create treasured moments.  

The smell and colors of childhood..

With the rains, the temperatures have dropped down. It is not cold, but the morning and evening air has this chill. And instead of the fan, I need something to wrap myself for a cozy sleep. Therefore, I decided to take out the thin bedspread from the drawer. I kept away the book on the side table. A bit of reading before falling asleep. Then wrapped myself in the cozy warmth of the spread. ‘It smells like India. It smells like India.’ I exclaimed excitedly and loudly with a beaming smile. The warmth of the bedspread filling my heart. ‘It smells like Kolkata.’ ‘It smells like my mother’s cupboard.’ I wrapped it around me more tightly.

ZOO, bold red letters on a blue board welcome us to the world of cute colorful animal cartoons printed on the bedspread. Red elephant with a tiny birdee on its back. The ruler of the animal kingdom, the adorable king lion. The spotted giraffes and stripped zebras. One monkey hidden in a tree, two other playing below it. The coconut tree. A red flower. A blue one. Camel giving ride and boy enjoying the zoo. The big blue wet hippo and the baby red one. Three fishy in a pond. Another yellow flower. An almost hidden silly turtle. The smiling sun. And a colorful snake close by. A girl in red frock holding hands with her brother. A happy colorful adorable zoo.

The colorful zoo

I had eyes on this bedspread from when I was a child. My mother used to spread it only on some special occasions or when we had close friends over at our home. The colorful bedspread thus got associated with many special memories. And all along I dreamed, ‘when I will be big, I will have it for myself’. Finally, last April when I visited India, I fulfilled my ‘dream’. I brought back with me this colorful happy memory of childhood. It was long waiting in my mother’s cupboard with other bed linens. It had the smell of the cupboard. The smell that was always in the air whenever my mother took out a fresh bedspread. A smell of detergent, and old fabrics, and new ones, the cupboard, all together. A smell that brought back cherished childhood memories.

We were all playing around the whole day, as parents were busy enjoying themselves. The two family friends were at home and we were having one of our ‘crazy’ get-togethers. Maybe we were playing ‘catch me’ inside the house. Suddenly one jumped on the bed. The others automatically followed. We ran up from one side escaping the ‘catcher’, and ran down the other. Our little footprints were imprinted on the bedspread. As if, some children actually ran through the display of cute and interesting animals in a colorful zoo. Little dusty black hurried prints capturing a moment of our playful rush.

There is this picture in my mind. Brother and me on our tummy on the bed, and completely engrossed in the animal pictures on the spread. Every time we used to ‘discover’ something new. The monkey that is hiding in the tree, the little yellow flower we had not noticed before, the boy in blue on the back of the camel. Or we would simply look at the animals around us and admire them. I loved the hippo in blue sometimes, while most other times the red elephant was my favorite. And we counted the number of giraffes printed on the bedspread. There is this picture of a toy train carrying the dolphins around! I often imagined myself in the same train getting a ride through the zoo. Other times bhai and me wished to be the little brother and sister holding hands and looking around in wonder.

The other day Blaž said, ‘It has a lion too’. ‘Of course’ I replied with an enthusiastic smile. And I looked lovingly at the cute ‘king lion’, friendly and yellow. Then I spotted a blue bird on the back of the elephant, almost hiding. I noticed that there is a pair of blue and yellow flower, and I used to think there is only the red and blue pair!

I love this bedspread. It had always been my most favorite. It still is. This bedspread brings back to me the little girl with two ponytails fascinated by the world of colorful cartoonish animals. And with the happy surprise it brought along the smell of India, the smell of home.. The colors and fantasy of the little girl and the smell of childhood..

Dadu..

Dadu.. I was then just a couple of days old and had come home for the first time from the hospital. You eagerly asked dida (grandma) to dress me up. You wished to take me out in the neighborhood and show me off proudly. In the end, of course you were not allowed to take the newborn out then yet. You had to wait another 2-3 months for the opportunity. Dida dressed me up in a new dress that she had stitched. A little dot of ‘kajal’ adorned my forehead. You gathered me in your arms with lot of care and took me out. Beaming with a proud happy smile you showed me to all your neighbors. Your brand new granddaughter. Your Tup.

After the lunch, I used to lie by your side playing and babbling. I was then old enough to slowly start eating normal food. Dida prepared the feeding bottle with fresh fruit juice. Your task was to make me drink the juice. However, of course I had no intention to do so. I used to try pushing the bottle out of my mouth. And you coaxed me to make the ‘choooo’ sound. The sound as air passes through the nipple of the empty bottle. With all eagerness, I continued sucking the juice to achieve the sound. ‘Choooo.’ I smiled with an enthusiastic happiness showing my empty gums. You smiled looking at me. A little everyday game. A little smiling moment of grandpa-granddaughter.

My babbles had not yet turned into words then. Every afternoon you used take me out in the garden. You introduced me to the nature around us. And I looked around. My eyes full of awe and wonder. ‘That is a crow.’ ‘Look there, there is a house-sparrow.’ ‘This big tree is called coconut tree.’ You showed me. My eager eyes followed your words. I was able to recognize birds even before I knew to speak a word. ‘Where is the crow?’ Your granddaughter’s keen eyes looked around in search and stopped as she spotted one. My gibberish sounds told that I found a crow.

The whole evening I used to crawl behind you as you walked around in the house. My knees and palms black with dirt, my face shinning with smile. And together we created stories. I was too young to remember these moments. Dida told me all in her stories. I have requested her to retell them hundreds of times. I still do. I can feel your loving touch through her words. I can feel you in these stories.

And then I do remember other moments. I remember how every evening you used to take me to the VIP road. We would wait for ma as she returned from work. In the meantime, the glorious red and yellow of the ‘krishnachura’ and ‘radhachura’ flowers had caught my attention. I wanted those flowers and my dadu fulfilled my wishes. I returned home, both hands full of flowers. My face radiant, reflecting their bright colors. And as spring faded away and the flowers stopped blooming, I wished to have the leaves. Compound leaves. I still love those leaves. One day I tore those little leaflets and tried to fill the channel of the sliding door. I can close my eyes now and vividly ‘see’ my two-year-old self, busy with the leaflets. I can ‘see’ it even with eyes open; the moment is so vivid in my memory.

Every day after lunch, you had to get me one guava fresh from the tree. Your Tup’s wish. You gave me my first Cadbury ‘Fruits and Nuts’. I still remember every details of that moment. My excitement and your satisfied smile. I remember you giving me ‘cream cracker’ biscuits. Those are still one of my favorites. After finishing my own fish head, I wished to get the eyes and brain from the one in your plate. I wished to have a bit of the fried ‘neem’ leaves from your plate. To make me take the bitter medicines when I was ill, you had to bribe me with my favorite bitter leaves from your plate! As I returned home after weeks in hospital, you held on to me as a lost treasure regained.

I used to lie down by you, trying to imitate you reading the newspaper. My legs crossed. Often times holding the newspaper turned upside down, I pretended reading the newspaper intently like you. When you turned a page, I turned too. I felt so grown up and proud of me, being able to ‘read’ like my dadu. The books that surrounded you made me interested, and I was fascinated by this world. I am still absorbed in this world of books, often times reading in the same posture as you used to.

I had just started going to school. It was summer vacation. I came to your place and proudly declared that I had learnt singing. Immediately, you kept aside the newspaper in your hand, and pulled me closer. ‘Won’t you sing it for me?’ Showing off my newly acquired talent, I proudly sang ‘Jana Gana Mana’, the national anthem! You were so proud and impressed with me. I always had this habit of telling you and showing you all the new things, everything, happening in my life. I still have the yearning to do so…

I lost you when I was only four years old. I did not understand then what was happening, what is death. The next day I asked dida where you were. She solemnly replied that you went somewhere very far and would never return. I was surprised but somehow accepted it. Without any further question.That day as rain poured down heavily reflecting my loss, I did not shed a tear. I did not even understand the loss. I just remember you lying peacefully in eternal sleep, the house full of people, and the heavy rain. But when I think now, I am almost glad I did not cry. You would have never liked your Tup’s eyes full of tears. I am glad I never really said goodbye, because you never really went away from me.

A child hardly remembers anything from when she is four or younger. And yet I have all these floating images and memories of you fresh in my mind. The moments are so alive that sometimes I feel I can almost touch them. Your love and the memories we created in those short four years are so precious to me. You are so precious. I look at your picture on my writing desk, I feel you close to me. Nevertheless, I still miss you. Because I know back in India, I will just have the big framed picture of yours when I go to your house, as it has been all these years. And here I stand holding your picture, still longing to tell you everything happening in my life. And I do tell. I tell you all about my smiles and tears, all success and failures. Every decision I take, every important moment of my years. Tup still wants to make her dadu proud and share secrets with him... 

And somehow I think and believe that my silent stories reach you. I can feel you with me, looking down at me with a smile. Even though I cannot see you, you are there. Aren’t you dadu? I know for sure that you are there. It is only that that I cannot reach you..

Dadu.. My dearest grandpa..

A bee story

Red, green, blue, yellow, white.. All the bright bold and beautiful colors decorate their houses. The bee-houses. Each bee colony has its own brightly colored box in the house.  As we drive around the beautiful Slovenian countryside, we see these colorful boxes cheering up the green-yellow fields drenched in golden sun. Every time they make my mood colorful and I wish to own one. Because these houses are bright, colorful and happy. Because it is about the buzzing bees. All these simply make me happy and smiling. We call them ‘Maya’ houses, from the Maya bee cartoon.

Blaž’s aunt Mojca lives in a very beautiful place. The house has a big garden with all sorts of fruits and vegetable plants. There is a small lily pool with fishes. Flowers blooming here and there add to the colors. There are no houses for meters around with only corn and wheat fields surrounding the place. And it is always so warm and friendly there. Blaž and I like to visit them. And as we went there for the weekend a while ago, there was another attraction added to the list. Uncle Janez is very interested in beekeeping and even used to have bee colonies. And now again he got enthusiastic and got a bee house in the garden!!! We were ecstatic. Specially me :)

The bee-house

In the soft yellow light of the morning, the bee-house was shinning bright and buzzing with the bees. They were going in and out, their usual busy self. Slovenia has one of the calmest honeybees in Europe. And anyway, with this air of highly professional attitude, they just meant business with no time for anything else unless they are threatened. So bravely, I stepped ahead closer to the house without giving any thoughts to the stings.

On that warm early summer morning, the beehive was thus abuzz. They danced to the nearby fields, their wings creating music, visiting flowers and collecting honey. I paid a bit more attention to the bees coming back on the landing of the hive with their load of pollen. They brought home two little bags of pollens on their legs. The sight was so amusing and I was all smiling to myself drawing the strangest analogy. I could not help but remember my dad on Sunday mornings returning home from the local market with two bags full of fresh produces and glistening silver fishes. The bees looked the same to me! They returned home buzzing with little loads of pollens in different colors. From bright golden yellow, to sunny red, to different shades of browns, the pollens told the stories of their flights, the flowers they had visited. Later when I tasted the harvested bee pollens, I could recognize the slight hint of difference in taste among the pollen balls of different colors.

Later in the day, uncle Janez told us the fascinating tale of the bee household. He was about to reveal in front of us the inner sanctuaries of the busy beehive. But not before I covered myself with the protective clothing and Blaž amused himself taking pictures of me. As an additional precaution, some mushroom smoke was used to numb the defensive reactions of the bees. The back doors of the beehive then opened, welcoming us to the meticulous world of bees.

Hundreds of bees covered each vertical honeycomb frame, busy with their daily activities. Some were building the cells, others were cleaning them, some were tending the larvae, and another group was preparing the nectar. The nectar was in different stages of its preparation. While some cells were holding the balls of pollen fresh from the field, others were glistening with the fresh viscous honey. The crystal shimmer of the honey tempted me. I could not help but dip my little finger in a cell and steal a droplet of sweetness. The sealed brooding cells nestled the eggs and larvae. We were trying to find the queen. With the worker bees always surrounding her, feeding her, and tending to the freshly laid eggs, she was difficult to find. Only after searching through many a frames we found her royal highness, surrounded by her courtiers, busy expanding her kingdom.

Though so obvious, I had never imagined bees drinking water. And my surprise knew no bound when Blaž showed me several bees at the edge of the lily pool. They were drinking water, their bodies vibrating in rhythm with every sip. Uncle Janez called us. He was about to demonstrate how the honeycomb base sheet is framed. Blaž of course had to count the approximate number of cells on each surface of the sheet. Does he love playing with numbers and calculating! I was more amazed at the simplicity of all the devices used in beekeeping. Almost archaic in look but most smart and practical in concept. Moreover, uncle Janez, so good with his hands, had made almost everything on his own!

Our whole day passed engrossed in the world of bees. As we enthusiastically observed those buzzing creatures, uncle Janez passed on tit-bits of intriguing information. In the warm rays of the late afternoon sun, we observed a little swarm of bees gathered in front of the bee-house. They seemed to fly at same positions, a few feet away but facing the house. ‘The young bees are having their orientation flight to recognize and remember the location of their hive. They are preparing before they go on their maiden flight tomorrow’, explained uncle Janez. He further clarified how the bees recognize their hive location with respect to the surroundings. The bright colors of the house have nothing much to do with it and are only for the aesthetic pleasure of the beekeeper. Well, of course, now that he mentioned it makes more sense. And here I thought bees recognize their hives with colors! ‘Mine is red, the neighbor lives in the yellow one!’

The eager and enthusiastic explanation and the fascinating buzzing world kept us captivated over that weekend. And happiest I was when last week uncle Janez invited us for another ‘bee lesson’, extracting the honey. Eagerly we went last Sunday, even though the weather was not the best for honey extraction, to enjoy another day amidst the buzz. The nearby cornfields were in bloom making the pollen bundles white this time.

With no hopes for the weather becoming any sunnier, after lunch, uncle Janez proposed to get down to the act. He decided to extract honey from six frames where the bees were already sealing the cells and demonstrate us the process. And I was like ‘I will do, I will do’ at each step.

The honey is extracted with centrifugal force using a big hand-spun centrifuge. We were working in the shed, hidden, so that the bees do not come smelling their honey. The first step was uncapping the cells using a fork. I was already getting excited as the honey almost oozed out while I was uncapping. How can one wait to taste that glistening sweetness! ‘Can I chew these wax?’, I eagerly asked pointing to the tiny bits of wax coated with honey resulting from the uncapping. ‘Sure’, said aunt Mojca explaining how even that particular wax is also healthy. ‘Blaž you must must try this’, my voice was with earnest excitement. The frames were properly placed within the centrifuge and I started spinning. First slowly, and then fast. The glittery droplets covered the centrifuge wall. And then it slowly dripped down. A bucket collected the rich golden goodness. An alluring sweet smell filled the air.

After a while, my ‘I will do’ enthusiasm diminished. Ah, it does need quite a lot of effort! My tired hands rested a bit as Matic took over the handle. However, in a while, I was back to the ‘I will do, I will do’ eagerness. Blaž all the while was busy taking pictures and making small videos, ‘of your happy smiling face’. ‘Now continue giving that cute smile and look at the camera’, he said. A quick look and I was back again engrossed in the honey. We extracted 1.5 liters that filled two jars!! The little bubbles and the rich dark golden of the honey mesmerized me. The bitter sweetness of the chestnut honey was blissful. ‘This is the freshest honey I ever had in my whole big life’ was my enthusiastic exclamation! ‘Everything is so perfect’ I chirped happily, ‘we just need to label the jars to make it complete’. And uncle Janez happily prepared the labels. It has a picture of a cute honeybee with a jar of honey. It even says who extracted the honey :)

Now, every day, I indulge myself in a spoon of this golden sweetness. Or two spoons. Sometimes I have a few of the bee pollens, ‘Maya pikicas’ as Blaž calls them.

Chasing the train

‘Will it be on Saturday or on Sunday?’ Blaž eagerly wished it to be on Sunday, so that he can be a part of it. He was impatiently checking the forums. And then it was finally declared. ‘It will be on Sunday!!’

On Sunday, 18 March 2012, the locomotive 361-106 set off for its last journey to Illirska Bistrica, where it now rests as an exhibit. Series 361 with the nickname Breda (after the company) were the first electric locomotives in Slovenia and were operated by the Yugoslavian Railways. Yugoslavia got 17 of these from Italy as World War II reparations. Only two of their kinds are left in Slovenia, the other being plinthed at Central Workshops in Ljubljana. The 361-106 was decommissioned in 1978 as the last of those operating in Slovenia after operating for 30 years on the Pivka-Reka line. Then it had to wait around 32 years in bad conditions. Restoration of the outside began in 2010. It was painted to match the colors from its most known period in Slovenia. After covering a total of 3.8 million km (including Italy period), the locomotive 361-106 finally found its home at Illirska Bistrica train station.

The locomotive left the museum shed at 5 in the morning. Already around 15 people were waiting there to capture the moment. We however decided to wait at the Ljubljana station from where it would officially start the journey.  A couple of other people were waiting too. While taking the chance to photograph the other interesting train activities going around us, we impatiently waited for our locomotive to arrive.

Slowly we started spotting more people wearing these reflective vests for safety, and with every minute the number of these fluorescent vests around was increasing. Soon we could see the bright headlights of the helping locomotive on the bridge. The biggest diesel locomotive 664-117 brought the Breda number 106 to Ljubljana. The 664, known as “Reagan”, is quite magnificent in its old-school dark green color, and interestingly with an air of authority around it. Towed behind arrived the locomotive 361-106, the star of the show. It was the first time I saw the locomotive in real life. It looks vintage and grand. The combination of the unusual shade of green and bright red adds to its glamour and grandeur. It looks different, truly from some far away time. A piece of history.

By the time the locomotive came to rest, the platform was full of these reflective vests. And all of them enthusiastically busy with their cameras. I have never seen so many cameras and video cameras together in my life that do not belong to media and professionals. The platform was full of tripods. Some had gone down on the tracks to capture the locomotives from different angles. They captured the whole locomotive, the wheels, the specifications written in white, the emblem, and every other little detail through their lenses. There was this excitement, tension and rush that could be felt all around.

The 361-106 does not have its interior restored and therefore cannot run on its own. Hence, the diesel locomotive brought it to Ljubljana, where it was connected to another electric locomotive, 363-005. This electric locomotive is the only electric locomotive in Slovenia still in its original yellow-green livery. Both the front and back locomotives were required for safety in case Breda disconnects from any of the two, as it does not have brakes of its own.

The last journey of the locomotive 361-106 began at 6:30 from Ljubljana at 30kmph.

Breda 361-106 at Pivka station

 As soon as it left Ljubljana, everyone including us rushed back to our cars. The buzzing platform was simply empty the next second. The plan was to chase the train, follow it all the way on its last journey, and take pictures and videos at several spots. We stopped at Dolgi Most, close to Logatec, Logatec, before Postojna, before Pivka, Pivka, and Kilovče, until the final stop at Illirska Bistrica. On a few other occasions, we only saw the train passing by from the car. 

The short drive from Ljubljana station to Dolgi Most was nervous and tensed. As Blaž paid attention to driving, trying to go as fast as possible without being reckless, I was looking out for the train. We had to overtake the train and there were of course traffic lights, the situation was turning anxious and edgy. We quickly parked the car at Dolgi Most and almost ran by the tracks across the little railway bridge to get a good angle for pictures. Blaž said a quick ‘careful’, I muttered a hurried ‘yes yes’. As we assumed our positions, Blaž behind the camera and me with the task of taking the video, he reminded me ‘follow the green one (Breda) while taking the video’. Most of the times we are just excited about the yellow locomotive and in my enthusiasm and excitement I almost forgot that the green was the center of attraction for the day, not the favorite yellow. As we saw the three-vehicle formation with Breda in the middle approaching blowing whistles, I prepared myself to follow the green with the lens.

People were just rushing all the time. From nowhere people would arrive, ready with their cameras, all running to take their positions just before the locomotive would appear. And as the locomotives vanished behind a turn, it would be deserted in an instant. Everyone rushed to their cars to reach the next spot. It was like those chasing scenes in action movies. People just did not look at any direction. They reached a stop, rushed down to take pictures, and then left in haste for the next one. I enjoyed the tension and urgent rush all around me. People were in touch with each other over phone getting minute-by-minute updates. Getting annoyed at any missed picture opportunity. Blaž directed me about how to position myself and how the videos should look. He would have taken the videos himself had he not been busy taking pictures. And at one point he really did that. The right hand was clicking pictures; the left hand was steady taking video. Everyone was just so excited and eager!

At Pivka station, the locomotive had a long three and half hours stop. Besides the enthusiasts following the locomotive on its journey, several other interested came to catch a farewell glimpse of the locomotive. There was media doing interviews. People passing by stopped for a moment to get a picture using their mobile phones, dads showed it to their little children. Even for those who are not seriously interested in railways, this vintage locomotive was a fascinating sight. It was buzzing with activities all around. Everyone wished to capture a memory of the locomotive and the event.

They stood in a line. They were in attention with their lenses focused on the locomotive. The same angle, the same sight, and so many people in a line. They wanted the field of view to be cleared and either waited patiently or were annoyed at anyone loitering around in front of the locomotive. Everyone wanted to have a picture with the locomotive, and there was a queue to get a chance. Some people climbed the nearby tiny hill to get a different perspective of the locomotive, while somebody else climbed a tall lamppost. It was happy, amusing and thrilling to watch all the enthusiasm around. When you see so much excitement around you, the heart cannot help but race with the rest. I just exclaimed, ‘It is so exciting, interesting, and simply super fun’!

The most interesting part came when we got a chance to go inside the locomotives. Generally, one needs permission to be inside the locomotives and therefore it was a rare chance that we got. The officials eagerly explained everything and happily answered our enthusiastic questions. Blaž was especially happy to be on his favorite yellow electric locomotive. It was the most interesting one, maybe because it is the favorite one. Later at Illirska Bistrica, we even got a chance to ‘ride’ on it for a couple of meters and blow the horns. There was a chance to see the railway switchboard and get explanations about the complicated details of its working. Seeing all those buttons, levers, simple looking yet complicated machineries, feeling the heat from the engine core, one cannot be anything but excited and awed. And so were we. Like children in a candy shop, amazed at how everything works, and thrilled to get a chance to experience those. 

Before long, decorated in flags it was time for the locomotive to move towards its final destination. The leading and trailing locomotives blew loud horns as the train passed each station or any spectator by the tracks to say the last “hi”. At several points, it slowed down to 10kmph to make it easier for photography.

The tracks go by the tiny empty Kilovče station and under some road bridge connecting two hills. Blaž first decided to stand by the tracks but then thought the overbridge would give a better perspective. And instead of taking the longer road, he climbed the hill, just in case to not miss the train. Few more came at the last moment, desperately climbing the hill and quickly taking positions. In a few minutes, 15 people were at different positions and 7 of us stood side by side on the bridge. It was such a chase, an adrenaline rush! People were almost speeding, running, climbing!

The closer it came to the end, the more exciting it was. At the final stop Illirska Bistrica, around 70 people and media were there to welcome it. Amidst all the pomp and show, the Breda 361-106 arrived, both its younger cousins blowing their horns loudly. With recorders rolling and cameras clicking, the last meters of Breda’s long journey was captured in history. We had a last look at our vintage locomotive before leaving. After a long life of glory and then desertion, the locomotive 361-106 finally came to rest at Illirska Bistrica station. In the following weeks, it was moved to the spot it occupies today. And what a fun adventurous day we had chasing it on its last journey!! My little heart always wished to chase a train. And then I got a chance! And in such a grand way. As I repeated several times that day, ‘It was Super Fun’!

The girl in me..

I step on the crisp dried leaves and make them crunch. I blow whistle through the primroses. I dress up as Maya bee for the mask carnival and get a matching balloon. I love to swing and slide in the children’s park. I can hardly resist the temptation of dipping the foot in the tiny little stream. I still read fairy tales. I sing children songs and rhymes. I live the girl in me…

Whenever I seek for some comfort reading, when I do not wish to start a new book, I go back to fairy tales books and other favorite books from my childhood. A particular collection of Russian fairy tales was my first real storybook. And for years I had read the book almost every day. I knew every story by heart. I of course had my favorites. Even I would read to my brother every day after lunch his favorite story. I remember how I did not know reading properly when I started reading the book. Those 1-2 pages short folk tales with animal characters mostly were all I could read. How eager and excited I was each time I managed to read a longer and more difficult story. I loved all the stories with ‘Little Ivan’. ‘Baba Yaga’ intrigued me rather than scaring me. The book has completely worn out; the red paper covering the hardbound is gone. It was my very first folk tale book; and still one of my most favorite books. Often I fondly go back to its old yellowish used pages. I love reading it. And whenever I do so, the childhood glee and wonder fills my heart. I feel again like the girl making the first step into the world of books.

I still remember loads of children songs and rhymes. I am not someone who sings a lot or listens to music much. However, I love playing these children songs on YouTube. I sing these rhymes when I am happy. I quickly glance through and read a few of the rhymes in a children’s book at the bookstore. These rhymes do not necessarily have to bring along my childhood memories. I love the Slovenian intro song of the Maya bee cartoon. And when I first heard the ‘Vesele Račke’ song I just fell in love with it. It is funny that often times while driving somewhere with the car, Blaž and me are singing these songs. Sometimes he would start the ‘Hashbabaji’ and other rhymes I taught him, and I would happily join :). I love their sunny melody, the cherry rhythm in those meaningless lines, and the sheer glee of ‘smiles without reasons’ that they bring.

Leaves have always fascinated me. I used to collect leaves during our childhood mountain holidays. My most favorite are the compound leaves. I like the small leaflets neatly arranged on the stem. After coming to Slovenia, I started liking pine needles. Whenever I am walking in nature, I like to pick up a dried twig, a dried branch, or a tall blade of grass. If I find one, that always makes me happy. Somehow, I like to drag it around with me. I love the dancing of the dried leaves in the late autumn wind. And then, I discovered the pleasure of stepping on the crisp dried leaves. I step here and I hop there. Each time I relish the churching sound under my feet. I make a crazy zigzag on the pavement and the heart soars in innocent delight.  The carpet of dried leaves in the woods makes the loveliest music as I walk on.

The spring is a celebration of colors. The snowdrops peek their head through the melting snow. Soon after, there appears a dash of yellow there, some dots of blue here, a cluster of red by the road. I love the bright play of colors amidst the fresh green. We go for the ‘flower walk’, taking a nearby long path where we know different spring flowers bloom in the wild. And then I pluck a gentle yellow primrose growing by the road and blow air through it in a loud whistle.  My eyes shine in joy. A bit later in the summer as the dandelions start to get dry, with a mischievous smile I pluck one dried globe of dandelion and blow off all its seeds on Blaž. 

Whenever I pass by a children’s park I have this strong strong wish to slide down the park slide and soar into the air sitting on the swing. I am a lot shy and control my wishes when there are children around. However, never miss a chance when I am alone. And some children know that I can be their ideal playmate. Once when we visited Blaž’s cousin at their weekend house, the little one, Filip, wanted me to slide with him. The next moment we were sliding down his little yellow slide, the sounds of our laughter filling the air.

The Maya bee balloon

Slovenia celebrates this big mask festival at the end of winter. I went around the stores searching for a perfect costume. And was disappointed. Everything I liked was available only in sizes for children! ‘I don’t wish to dress up like that’, I thought as I checked the aisle displaying costumes for adults. I wanted to be the butterfly with the colorful wings made out of the shimmering material. I fancied being the bright red ladybug. I wished to buzz around as the cheerful yellow bee! Finally, I bought a bee costume for children. It was in the form of an apron. I decided to get it and work on it to fit my size. Face painting colors and a cute big antenna was bought. I paired it up with matching black and yellow colored dress. Lo and behold, I was smiling and shinning like a cute bee, just from the cartoon. Of course, Blaž also had to dress similarly! Buzzing around at the carnival, we saw this balloon seller with big Maya-bee balloons. I so much wished to have one. He insisted on me getting one. And bought one for me!! The rest of the day, I was walking around with the smiles on the balloon and on my face matching.

I like to chase pigeons. And watch frogs. I make a crown with dandelions and wear it. I always get this urge to put the unknown wild berries in my mouth. And every time I see a green slope, I wish to roll down. I can pretend to be an airplane running down some empty scenic road. I wear dresses with ribbons and bows. I just cannot help myself and stop being the little girl. She makes me smile every time :)

The red rose

It was February 14. In the local stores and gift shops, newspapers, magazines, internet, it was all about things that are red and romantic. Chocolates and strawberries in heart shaped glossy boxes, candle light dinners, balloons and other decors in the color of red and shape of heart were in high demand. Then of course, there were the roses that are red. Even there was a newspaper article about how the colder American and European countries were importing tons of red roses to meet the demands of Valentine’s Day. A red rose, the romantic, enchanting, mysterious symbol of love, holds also another different meaning for me. It is also a symbol of little wishes for me. A very special memory flutters around. Red roses always remind me of this little girl.

I was in eighth standard then when I requested my parents to take me to Shishu Bhavan (Home for Children), under Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity. Influenced by different little incidents, this strong wish of doing something for the children grew in me at quite a young age. I always had and still have a limited capacity of doing something. However, I have always believed in the fact that a little smile, a little gesture of love and affection, a little way to help even one child do mean something. And therefore, there was this wish. I wished to spend a morning with those babies, those little girls and boys. I wished to take for them some clothes. Spend the morning smiling with them. Of course, I also decided to take lots of toffees. Children love sweets, and a simple toffee can make them elated. 

 

It was the ninth day of our greatest festival in Bengal, the Durga Puja, when we arranged to go. I had already called them to ask for an appointment. The dresses were nicely wrapped in colorful papers. In the morning, dad had bought the bags of my favorite toffees. He also bought a bunch of fresh roses in yellow and pink colors. He said to put those in front of Mother Teresa’s picture there, an offering of respect. I was so happy and eager to go.

We rang the bell, and one sister answered. We told them our purpose of visit and were taken to the office where we handed over the clothes. The room was full of other big packages from all around the world, showers of love. I then made a request to meet all the children and distribute the toffees. They gladly agreed, and one sister took us around. Such a beautiful morning it was. The laughter of children and their cheerful babbles made the beautiful autumn day more glorious.

I remember the place as two separate buildings with a courtyard in between. The memories of the surroundings have faded, but the memories of those children are still fresh like dew drops. First, we went to the building housing the children aged 3-5. They all had gathered together in little groups, playing, creating noise, running all over the place. Just like children should be. An elder girl was there tying hair of a cute little girl into two braids. Some other girls had gathered around asking her to tell one story. They were all playfully busy.

As I went to each of them to give toffees, they looked up with surprise. But only for a moment, and then they smiled. Used to such visitations, they were very comfortable. Just inquisitive, curious and such adorable. ‘Who are you?’, ‘What is your name?’, ‘Why are we getting toffees?’, ‘Can we get more than one?’, they were full of questions. Their faces beamed as each one got the toffees. Some were shy and hid their faces behind others, some smartly asked for one more, some said a polite thanks as they were taught, some gave a shy happy hug, some just hurried back to their game. I kneeled down and sat between them. I hugged one, gently patted the cheeks the other, held hand of yet another. I was so happy amidst them. Their eyes were shining, faces smiling, glowing like little sunflowers.

The building also housed physically and mentally challenged children in upper floors. The sisters were caring for them, tending them. I remember this little boy without vision. He was standing in his big cot facing the window. I gently asked, ‘Do you wish to get a toffee?’. The boy turned around with a big smile and extended one hand. I gave him one. Those little fingers quickly wrapped the toffee, and he hid the hand behind him. And then with this most cute mischievous smile, he extended the other hand. With a smile I gave him another toffee. Now with both his little fists holding to the sweet delights, he gave me an elated smile and said in a cheerful way ‘I got two!!’. 

We went to the other building. Some girls, I think 5-6 years old, were playing in the big veranda there. I distributed the toffees among then. And I noticed a cute girl with chubby cheeks whispering something to the sister while looking at me. I still had the roses in my hand, and she wanted one. The sister told her to ask from me. She shyly came to me, and asked ‘Will you give me one rose? The pink one?’. I smiled at her and gave her the desired rose. Soon, the other girls got interested, and everyone wished a rose. I was so elated. I took each rose out of the bouquet and gave them to the girls. They smelled the roses, gently brushed the petals like some precious possession, one took out a petal and made it fly in the gentle wind. They looked all so happy. And the same glow of happiness filled my heart too.

We next went to the big room where children of ages 2-3 were getting ready. Some foreign delegate was scheduled to come and visit them later that day. As I gave a toffee to one little boy, the attending sister remarked how he would mess the clean shirt he had just changed into. The boy innocently replied ‘No sister, I won’t make any mess, can I have the toffee?’.  The sister gave an encouraging nod, pulling another boy in her lap to change his shirt.

The upper floor had a big room with infants in their little cots. I still remember the wooden board with the number of infants written with chalk, ’92 Girls 91 Boys’. They were a few days old, a few months old, all under the age of a year. Most of them were sleeping peacefully in their cot. Some had chewing sticks in their mouth. Some of them were awake, speaking incoherent words, kicking with their little legs, smiling gleefully. A baby was trying to turn on his tummy, another was trying to stand holding the rail of the cot. One baby sat there, trying to play with the red ball. The sister said, most of them were already ‘booked’ by families for adoption. It was a mixture of different feelings.

It was time to leave. We were in the big hall saying our thanks to the sisters. And suddenly from somewhere the little girl came running. The girl who had asked for the first rose. ‘Are you going now?’, she asked wrapping her arms around me. I said ‘yes’, gently touching her cheeks. ‘When you come next time, bring me a red rose, red one, will you?’, she asked with all eagerness. I could only nod and smile a yes. She ran back to her friends.

I could never forget that wish. And the girl. She wished for only one red rose. It was a simple wish, but her face gleamed with the most beautiful eager smile. I was so very happy that she made the wish. And at same time, a little corner of my heart became numb for reasons unknown. Innocent wishes that heart whispers, a red rose is also a symbol of those wishes for me.

Inside the tunnel

This January started for us with an interesting exploration. We walked on the track inside a train tunnel. And to describe the whole experience, I can only say ‘Super awesome’!!

One train enthusiast, who with his friend has walked on almost all railway tracks in Slovenia, traditionally walks inside Bohinj tunnel for quite some years now on 2^nd January. His friend and few other enthusiasts join in. This time he sent a sms to Blaž, inviting him to join the walk too. We instantly decided that we would go. It sounded fun and interesting. Blaž loves trains, and anything related to railway. Therefore, he was very eager. I am also interested in trains, though maybe not in such technical manner. However, the idea of walking in a 6 km long train tunnel definitely caught my attention and interest. I was looking forward to it too.

Bohinj tunnel is 6327m long, built in 1906. It was, at that time, one of the most important railway connection between Trieste and Central Europe. Presently it is the longest Slovenian railway tunnel. The tunnel has a slow uphill slope reaching its highest point somewhere around the middle, and then it again goes down. One interesting feature of the tunnel is the presence of water source deep inside it. Originally planned as a double track tunnel, there is now only one track. The other was removed to improve the drainage inside the tunnel. Left now with only the southern portal, a consequence of World War II, the tunnel stands there, still as the same important railway connection.

The plan was to take the train around 2pm on the other side of the tunnel and then walk our way back. Accordingly, we gathered at the station Bohinjska Bistrica around the time. The scheduled train was mostly for carrying cars across the tunnel and had only one small chair car. It took us around 10 minutes to reach the Podbordo station on the other side. It was fun to watch the cars boarding off the train. And then, we slowly started towards the tunnel for our walk. There was a bridge leading to the entrance of the tunnel. It was funny and a tad bit scary to walk on those iron sheets by the side of the track. Wow, I always wished to walk on a railway bridge! We let one locomotive pass before we entered the tunnel. And of course, a few pictures had to be taken. The weather was not particularly good, which meant that a constant draft wind would blow in our back. But that did not matter anyway; it only made things interesting. We were geared up with our flashlights and reflective vests; and were about to begin our in-tunnel adventure!! I was excited.

Bohinj tunnel.. Before entering..

We entered the tunnel. The first couple of meters still got the day light from outside. And then, we were enveloped in the darkness. The tunnel wall was covered with thick layer of soot and little coal particles. A result of all the smoke from the coal trains and the present diesel trains. I imagined my previous heritage steam train rides and the thick black smoke from the engine creating yet another layer of soot while passing through the tunnel. It was inches thick, a sort of crumbly yet hard layer. There were little coal particles shining like gemstones under our flashlights. At the beginning of the tunnel, there were little structures in the wall, strategic points to facilitate dynamite explosion in case the army ever needs to close the tunnel behind them. We also took notice of the architecture, how stone and concrete slabs of different sizes and shapes lay in perfect alignment.

The remnants of the second track were still there for the initial few meters. Then it was gravel and sand, a bit wet. Blaž and I walked on the tracks while others were walking on the side gravel. To me the track felt more comfortable. It was safe as we knew the schedule of the trains. And most importantly, that was what I always wished to do. During my numerous train rides to holiday destinations when I was little, I always wished to walk on the tracks. I always imagined how I would hop from one sleeper to the next. And even though I did do it before on some abandoned tracks, it was only for a few steps. I was always envious of the railway maintenance workers. Now, when I got one chance to walk kilometers on it, I was not ready to it let go. My heart made happy jumps as I stepped from one sleeper to another!

Inside the tunnel

Little posts marked the kilometers. Lines marked the nearest niches, which were each 100 meters. Some of the niches were bigger with telephone boxes etc. There were posts marking allowed speed limits and approaching signal or station. The signal was a nice glowing red, wrapped in the darkness. A few meters ahead, there was another signal glowing orange indicating the approach of a traffic signal. As we walked on and looked back, both the signals were glowing side by side. Further ahead, the signals merged into one. We switched off all our flashlights for some time, silently walking in the complete darkness. Rarely one experiences such darkness when literally nothing is visible.

At a point we had a scare that a train is approaching us from the opposite direction. We stepped down quickly from the tracks. Waiting patiently for a minute by the side of the track, we could neither see the light approaching nor hear the sound. There was no train scheduled at that time anyway. Soon we realized that it was the signal light on the other side of the tunnel, which we had mistaken as an approaching train. We were now almost halfway in the tunnel. The signal light left behind had vanished as the tunnel sloped up. The light in front of us was now marking our goal, the other end of the tunnel.

There is a big chamber inside the tunnel, almost like a room. Initially used for keeping tools and other equipments, now it is nicknamed as ‘ball room’. There we decided to have a picnic! Wow, wasn’t that fun! Having a picnic inside a railway tunnel! In the chamber there was an old table with two benches, some other higher table, and a old closet like thing. Everything had a layer of soot. Our first job was to cover the surfaces of the table and benches with old newspapers. We lit some candles. There were chocolates and cookies, and each had their own sandwiches. There was even champagne! Someone had some practical plastic cocktail glasses. We made a toast to the walk and the New Year.

The draft of wind outside the chamber had a chill in it. It was time for a train to pass. We went out to wait for the train in dark. Some had cameras ready. We saw the glowing yellow lights appear at the end. It grew bigger and brighter, but still there was no sound! The sound came much later when the train was already very close. We waved our hands and the train blew its horn a bit in response.  Soon the other two scheduled trains also went by. It was time to continue our walk. We gathered our trashes, and resumed walking. And more adventure was in store for us.

Soon we came across the first of the underground water sources. A concrete wall guarded the track from the water gushing out on it during heavy rains. Now however, there was only a little stream flowing through the lower pipe. It was a tiny narrow tunnel leading to the source some 25 meters ahead. We lowered ourselves down into this narrow tunnel for more exploration. We walked on the narrow bank, the water rushing past us in the little stream. It was a tiny walk towards the source. Through a narrow shaft in the rock-wall water was gushing out. Inside there was a narrow pool, someone mentioned at least 5 meters deep. The other two ends of this narrow tunnel only led to dead ends.

We were no more walking on the tracks, which were now at a higher level. During the rainy times, a stream would flow where we were walking. Now it was only a fast stream flowing under the track. From time to time, little vents were present, and we could hear the stream. There were a few other tiny orifices with water trickling down the wall. At places, the water had frozen into pretty ice sculptures. Soon we also reached the second water source. This stream was much more interesting and mysterious. It had two different shafts, both with water. The left one is short and strong, while the right one goes slightly up for about 20 meters. The strong water made both of them almost inaccessible. Now, the water was flowing under our feet as we walked on the concrete slabs for the remaining of the tunnel.

The red light at the end of the tunnel that we had seen from far now approached closer. We were at the end of our walk. Outside it was drizzles mixed with snow. There was a bit more walk to the station and I continued walking on the tracks as far as I could. At the station, we decided to wait a bit longer for the train at 7pm. And after that, it was time to go home.

I walked on the tracks. I walked in the longest railway tunnel in Slovenia. I spent around four and half hours inside a railway tunnel. We even had a mini picnic. Four trains passed us while in the tunnel. We saw the underground water sources. I even walked to the first one. There were beautiful ice sculptures. A fast stream was flowing under the tracks and us. Was it not exciting and awesome? It was. It sure was.

I returned home all happy, excited and full of stories. It was just Super Awesome!!!